


Five Times Someone Accidentally Said Mom or Dad (and one time someone said "son")

by BairnSidhe



Series: Bodies-verse [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Children, Emotionally Repressed Characters, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Parenting in Dangerous Situations, Past Child Abuse, parenting done right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe
Summary: Superheroes tend to adopt people.  They build broken families into kintsukuri artwork and carve out relationships against all odds.  When they do that, there comes a time when someone accepts it, and calls it what it is... parenthood.Five times from the Bodies-Verse someone accidentally called someone Mom or Dad, and one time a very resistant hero said "son".





	Five Times Someone Accidentally Said Mom or Dad (and one time someone said "son")

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Mothers Day!
> 
> This one is for a friend, who mentioned the moment in adoption fics where the kid says "dad" for the first time is like crack, and well... I'm an enabler.
> 
> Heads up, no actual child abuse happens "on screen" here, but there are moments where situations demand children act the parts of/be treated like adults. None of the parent-figures here are happy about that, and it is not done with intent to glorify adultification any more than I glorify the Red Room (which is to say, not at all). It does lean heavily to the comfort side of hurt/comfort, but includes references to what caused the hurt. Watch your headspace before entering.

Five Times Someone Accidentally Said Mom or Dad

 

1.  Trainee 16

It had been a long, grueling mission.  She had been required to let a man twice her age put his hands places she wanted no one’s hands but her own.  At least she was not required to pretend to enjoy it, although she honestly did not know why some targets found appeal in a less than enthusiastic partner.  She had also been forced to use the play-dangle on the top of an unnecessarily tall building, and then be dropped, using a glide suit to break her fall enough to survive.

Not enough to avoid injury, but enough to survive.

Now she was on the trip home, her leg survicably splinted, a low dose of painkillers helping her float above the screaming agony of the train’s vibration, her handler across from her keeping watch.  She had checked him, looked for the coldness before they went out. It wasn’t there, and based on the last decade of experience, would not return until he was taken back into a room she and her fellow trainees never saw.  That meant she could trust him, let him see the weakness in her posture as she tried to hold her injured leg slightly off the floor of their compartment.

“Try laying down,” he advised, startling Sixteen out of her reflections.  “Lay on your side, injured leg up. Put one of the back cushions under your head, and the other between your knees.”

She followed the order.  When he was warm, she didn’t have to question internally if this was a trap.  She still would have done it, following orders kept her alive, but if he were cold, she would brace for an attack.  He sat on the floor and used his flesh hand to brush her hair off her eyes. He began to hum. She closed her eyes to focus on the faint sound of the secret lullaby, the song of boys and a girl and a love story, of a power stronger than dark magic and princes, of happy endings.

“Thank you Papa,” she mumbled as she slipped into sleep.

“You’re welcome Natka.

 

2.  Zoe Keener.

Zoe still didn’t believe it.  Her life had changed so very suddenly, and it felt impossible.  Like maybe she’d wake up one day and she wouldn’t be in her big room with the pale green walls and the fluffy purple blanket and the windows that looked toward Central Park.  That she’d be back in the room she shared with Harley in Rose Hill, and her Mom would be drunk and passed out on the sofa again. Or worse, awake and hung over and wanting breakfast.  Mom had never really believed Zoe when she tried to explain why stoves would be dangerous when you have no depth perception. Luckily, Harley was a good cook and an early riser. Zoe was better with their mother when she came home from work, tired and sore.

You didn’t need good eyes and ears to give a massage.

She was thinking about that, about the changes, when she found Natasha curled up on a sofa in the common room, looking about as miserable as a person can look.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.  Natasha groaned and pulled a second pillow over her head.  Jarvis blinked a light in a corner, spotlighting a plant that hid a security panel.  Zoe carefully walked to it, sure not to make more sound than necessary. She pulled the security panel open and unfolded the keyboard.

_ Agent Romanova has a headache right now, Zoe _ , the AI explained on the screen.   _ There was a particularly hard mission, and she is refusing to take the anti-inflammatories that would correct her tension. _

_ That’s stupid, she needs to feel better. _

_ I agree, Miss Zoe, but Agent Romanova has a right to choose her level of medical intervention.   _ There was a pause, and the puff of air from the vent that meant Jarvis was sighing.   _ That right has been violated far too often, doing so over something so minor would be worse than the headache. _

_ Okay.  I can work with that. _  Zoe folded the screen back up and turned her back on the blinking light.  She moved to the sofa and helped Natasha sit up, sliding behind the cringing adult to lay warm hands on the bottom of her neck, where it met the back.  She worked the muscles loose, from shoulder into scalp, standing on the seat to reach the top of Natasha’s head, finding knots under red curls and applying steady pressure until they released.

Natasha sighed and slumped back against Zoe’s knees.

“Thank you, kiddo, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

Zoe froze.  Natasha froze.  Then Natasha stood slowly, looked at Zoe’s face, and burst into a smile like a light coming on in a dark room, awkward and somewhat painful for its sudden brightness.

“No takebacks!” the spy said swiftly in childlike glee.  Zoe rolled her eyes.

 

3.  Thomas Yukio Murdock

Thomas Yukio Murdock was still adapting to  _ being _ Thomas Yukio Murdock.  Before this, before the name and the lullabies and the colorful toys and the flavorful food, he had been Kuro Sora, the Black Sky.  A weapon. His dark half had given him what he needed, skills and reflexes collected over more years than Thomas could hold in his head.  It had kept him alive, when nothing else, when no one else, would.

Now, it was helping him adapt, but this place was… strange.

_ This device is contradictory.  The purpose is utilitarian, for research and intelligence gathering, but the case is brightly colored such as to be a detriment to covert operations, and there are such strange programs on it. _

_ Agreed. _

“Caddell-san, why is… Angry Bird?”

“D’you mean why are the birds angry, or why do you have it?”  Caddell Harrow was a good source of information. He was younger, physically, but he thought through the questions better than the older children of this clan.

“Yes,” confirmed Thomas.  “And why is this red?”

“One at a time,” Caddell said firmly.  “Mam says you learn it better one at a time.  First, the birds are angry ‘cause the pigs are BadMonsters who hurt their families.  Like Hulk, they use angry smash to make the BadMonster pigs go away and stop hurting people.”

“Ah.  The pigs are like the Oni that Otosan and Okasan fight.  This is… for training?”

Caddell made the sideways scrunched face that meant his guess wasn’t right, but also wasn’t wrong.  “I mean, you learn lotsa physics with it? But mostly it’s fun to knock down the pig’s towers.”

“Fun…”  It wasn’t a new word, the dark half knew the word from working backwards.  Reversing the meanings of liars to find truth. Thomas could see the appeal of fighting the garish green pigs, it was less real than the Oni, easier to hold.  “And red?”

Caddell shrugged.  “Mine’s blue, Colin has green.  Those are our fav’rites. Is red your favorite color?”

Thomas thought about that.  He hadn’t had cause to have a favorite color before.  Red felt bright, energetic. It could be joy and strawberry sauce or anger and silk robes.  Red was… adaptable. He could like red.

Later, Okasan came to pick him up.

“Did you have fun?”

“I did.  I have a favorite color now.”

“That’s good!”  Okasan’s mouth did the happy-sad-happy line, and Thomas noted her mouth was also red.  Yes. He chose well. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.  Like the tablet you gave me... Mama.  Thank you!”

“You are very welcome, baby.”

 

4.  Peter Quill

He didn’t start it.  It was all Sandra’s fault, the Lil Bit just couldn’t let things lie, always tying stuff up into patterns and making connections.  In truth he didn’t blame her for that, he’d seen through her eyes, felt the very physical difference of how her brain connected to her body.  Anybody with that much input would have to find a way to sort it, or they’d go crazy. It was why he preferred the mind-room to actually swapping bodies.

Now though, he was a bit irritated about her tendencies, because now he was facing one of the worst bullies on the crew.  All because of Sandra’s stupid nicknames.

“Aww, what’s wrong, gonna go cry to your  _ daddy _ ?” crowed Taz.  “Go on and cry to Yondu, little Terran, little leaky face.”

“Point the first,” Peter said, hiding the waver in his voice, “I never called him that.  Point the second, do you know what Terran tears are made of?”

Taz pulled back.  That was the sort of question that frequently prefaced learning about the toxic or corrosive nature of some species bodily fluids.

“Water?”  Taz’s crony Flibb said, sniffing the air.  He reminded Peter of the mole from the old Thumbelina movie, blind and long-nosed and sticky-fingered to a degree that made even Ravagers uncomfortable.  “And salt.”

“Yeah, mostly,” Peter agreed.  You couldn’t lie effectively about your own biology, not in a crew with such a diverse spread of species.  Someone somewhere would be able to call you on it. “But also chemicals from our brains. Pure, unadulterated emotions given molecular form.  We cry when we literally can’t feel more than we’re feeling. When we’d poison ourselves from them if we couldn’t vent them in tears.”

“So?  You can’t handle a little teasing without getting your precious, fragile Terran feelings hurt?  Lame,” Taz proclaimed. “What’s Yondu even want with a weakling like you? The old man is a fool thinking those books he finds are gonna make you good for more than getting in small spaces.”

“Yeah, Yondu’s an idiot,” chimed Flibb.

Peter bit his lip hard enough to bring up a drop of blood and licked it up.  He knew better than to get into a fight. If he made it physical, it’d be on him, and Yondu would have to punish him for fighting.  But…

“You didn’t ask me what I was feeling,” Peter said quietly.

“What?”

“You didn’t ask what I was feeling so hard I’m risking death to feel it,” Peter clarified.  “Important detail, Taz.”

“So what are you  _ feeling _ ?” Taz jeered.

Peter looked at him, letting the parts that cried, that felt the things he was overloading on slide to the back, unlocking action.  “Anger, Taz. You made me  _ angry _ .”

<^>

“What do you have to say for yourself, boy?” Yondu asked after the official punishment had gone down, as he applied soothing strips of some plant Peter didn’t know the name of to his abused spine.  The neural loader didn’t injure him, some people even used them for fun, but it left his back feeling blistered for weeks.

“I shouldn’t have done it.  Wouldn’t have done it…”

“Then why did you?”

There was a long pause where Peter considered his choices.  He didn’t want to say, but thankfully Kraglin was in the top bunk and had no filter.

“Cap’n, Sir, Flibb called you an idiot.  Peter just got there quicker’n me.”

“Boy, what in the seventeen hells were you thinkin’ trying to defend me?  I  _ am _ an idiot!  You know that, you’re smarter than me even on your dumb days.”  Yondu wagged his head. “And Kraglin, this is ‘tween Quill and me, give him room to pretend it’s private.”

“Y’Sir.”

Peter sighed.  “I got so angry.  They shouldn’t have said that about you.  You’re our Captain. And…”

“And?”

“And… you’re my…”  Peter pressed his face to the thin pillow.

“Didn’t hear that.”

“You’re… Yon-Dad.”

There was a long pause, and Yondu pulled the sheet up gently over the layer of gooey leaves, tucking it in around Peter like a large bandage.  A warm hand rested at the base of his skull for a moment, and Peter could almost hear words. Yondu sometimes did that, like prayer or something, so low nobody knew what he was saying.

“G’night… Kids.”

 

5.  Cassie Lang

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Maggie Lang-Paxton asked again.  Hope rolled her eyes at the other woman.

“You and Jim haven’t had a chance at a proper honeymoon yet.  Scott adores Cassie, and is more than happy she’s staying with us.  As is evidenced by the fact that when he found out, he went to the store with Luis and Katherine to get extra blankets and pillows, because they’re planning an ‘epic blanket fort’.  Frankly, I’m surprised you waited this long.”

“Yeah,” Maggie bit her lip, “but it isn’t technically Scott’s place, and I didn’t want to impose.  I know he’d be willing to babysit more, but if it weren’t for this cruise coming along so suddenly....”

“Maggie… you know I think Cassie’s great too, right?  I’m not the best with kids, but I promise to make sure she eats a vegetable or two and gets sleep.  I do the same for Scott, it can’t be that much harder for someone who’s basically Scott but short.”

Maggie laughed, but Hope didn’t quite get the joke.  Regardless, Jim tapped the horn and waved to them, drawing her back to the car that had been packed with their luggage.  Hope suspected Stark’s hand in the two week cruise and training seminar on super-event response that Jim would represent the SFPD at, but she had no proof.  Cassie had already been unloaded and gone out back to play with her dad. Two weeks would be fine.

The first two days were fine.

Then Cassie had a sudden growth spurt that made her cranky as her bones pulled her muscles painfully.  Hope helped Scott look up proper doses for painkillers and showed Luis where the heating pad was kept, and tried not to lose her mind.  Cassie was a good kid, a great kid, brave and smart and funny. It wasn’t her fault her voice hit that one specific pitch that made the hair go up on Hope’s arms, it wasn’t like she wanted to be in pain.

One week in and everyone’s nerves were fraying thin.  Scott had left to go to the pharmacy to pick up something for the sore throat that came from the whining and growling, but they all knew what he wanted was half an hour of silence.  Luis had disappeared with one of his many cousins. Katherine, who Hope hadn’t thought would want to stay beyond the first days of blanket fort madness, had stuck it out the longest, but even she was hiding by making soups and teas and baked goods in the Pym Family Kitchen, which was a bit of a feat.  Hope didn’t cook, and her dad was more than likely to disassemble appliances than use them for their intended purposes. 

That left Hope cuddling the sore and exhausted Cassie on the sofa, watching a episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

“Hope?” Cassie asked, her voice quiet and ragged.

“Yeah Jelly Bean?”

“You’re a good Mom.”

Hope froze.  Cassie surely wasn’t assuming there was something going on between her father and Hope, was she?  There was, yes, but neither adult had chosen to name it, and they had carefully not shown any of it in front of Cassie.

“I’m lucky,” Cassie continued, not seeming to notice Hope’s turmoil.  “I have my Mommy, and my Daddy, and Jim, and you, and Uncle Luis and Auntie Kat.  My best friend at school only has her Mommies and her Dad. Nobody besides us has two moms, and that sounds  _ boring _ .”

Hope let out a giggle in surprise.  Leave it to Scott’s kid to say the word ‘boring’ like it was a swear word.  “I’m glad you like all your parents,” she said, trying to keep from laughing more.  “It’s good to like your parents.”

Cassie nodded, then rolled over, jabbing a sharp elbow under Hope’s ribs before curling up and starting to snore.  Hope smiled, and adjusted their blanket with one hand.

 

+1.  Tony Stark

It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened.  Anyone with basic observational skills could put together ‘newly adopted tecnopathic teen’, ‘secure research level’, and ‘angry security guard’ to figure out that Harley Keener had been caught with his powers in the cookie jar.

Tony Stark, however, had more than basic observational skills, and he also saw the blown pupils in the kid’s face, the distinctive stillness of someone who knows better than to try pulling away, and the angle at which his hand was flexed.  His heartbeat did a weird fast-slow jump around the reactor in his chest and Tony picked up the pace, plastering his salesman’s smile on.

“Now, what’s going on here?” he asked in his mildest tone.

“Mr. Stark!  Uh, I have this under control, no need to concern yourself, sir,” babbled the guard.  Tony tilted his head in a magpie-esque way he knew unsettled people.

“This?  What could you mean by ‘this’ being under control?  Surely you aren’t calling a child a ‘this’, I know I don’t hire people who think of people as objects.  Or do I need to have another word with HR?” The guard went still and Harley let out a small sigh, one that wouldn’t catch attention, except Tony was looking for it.  That was the breath of someone who’d been braced for a blow moments before. Someone who knew how to take a hit.

“There’s just been a small issue with security, the young man clearly needs to be downstairs at the Student Lounge, we’ll look into how he got up here after we’ve gotten him back.”  The guard was sweating now. Tony looked pointedly at the place his hand was clenched on Harley’s arm. “Nothing to worry about Sir!”

“I think I’ll decide when to worry,” Tony said quietly, leaning into the guard’s space, looking at his name tag.  “And Mister Benson, I think I’ll be worried until you release. My.  _ Son. _ ”

Benson’s face went slack in confusion, and Harley slipped free of the loosened hand to duck behind Tony.  “But… you don’t have a son.”

“I think you’ll find you don’t know me, Mister Benson,” Tony said coldly.  “Harley, did you show Mister Benson your ID tag?”

“No, I was going to!” Harley promised.  “I was reaching for it when he grabbed me.  I wouldn’t even be here except Mama Nat asked me to collect you for dinner!  It’s not my fault.”

“No, no it isn’t,” Tony soothed.  “Jarvis, contact Happy. Tell him I want security, competent security led by him, mind you, to come collect Mister Benson.”

“They are on route, Sir,” Jarvis said in the flat tone he used near outsiders.  Only family would catch that he was also precise, and Happy couldn’t be on route unless he’d been summoned previous to Tony’s order.

“Good.  Call HR, I want Mister Benson given every inch of the severance package we agreed to when he signed on, and two weeks extra pay to cover him while he seeks other employment.”

Harley stiffened behind him and Tony turned on his heel as Happy’s people arrived.

“Do you want to know why I did that?” he asked, letting his voice drop to the comfortable warmth he let family have.  “Give him a good severance package and extra pay?”

Harley shrugged.  Poor kid looked betrayed, but like he was hiding it.  Tony knew that mask, he’d worn it every time he left for boarding school.

“Because problems happen when people aren’t able to cover basic expenses, and I don’t know Benson from a hole in the floor.  I don’t know his life and he doesn't know mine. I wouldn’t know if he has kids any more than he knew I did. I want him to find something stable, so he doesn’t cause problems, so any dependents he has can be safe, so he can keep being a civilian, and not risk going down a dark path that leads to fighting him later.”

“Like Killian,” Harley whispered.  “When we met, it was because Killian was a villain, and he blamed you.”

“Like Killian,” Tony agreed, not correcting the kid that Killian hadn’t been alone in blaming Tony.  There was no need to spill his issues on the kid. “I can’t afford to do that again, Harley. Not with you and your sister here, in my life, eating my cereal and stealing my toys.  He blew up my house, and I almost lost everything. My everything is a lot bigger now, and I cannot risk you being a target. Money is a tool, and giving Benson enough to take care of himself protects you.  That’s why I did that. Because you’re my son.”

“And you lo-o-o-ve me?” Harley asked in the bratty tone that Tony had come to see as normal and healthy, complete with kissy faces.

“Don’t push me, twerp, I’m working on it,” Tony said, pulling Harley into his side to ruffle his hair.  “You gotta learn how to manage that sass before it gives your play away. You’re a Stark, after all. Stark men are made of surprises.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Trainee 16: Natasha before she was Natasha, her nickname Natka is a secret.  
> Oni: Demon, literally. Thomas-speak for super-villains.  
> Otosan: Father  
> Okasan: Mother  
> Neural Loader: a device that measures neurological output and can be used to scramble/overload the senses. Used as corporal punishment on Ravager ships because it literally cannot physically injure 90% of species, unlike flogging.
> 
> Notes:  
> As mentioned in the top notes, this fic has kids acting as adults or being treated as adults. This is Not Okay, but the parent units available can't change what's happening. In Natka's case, Bucky is being actively brainwashed and can only blunt her own damage through his. In Zoe's case, she has survival skills to unlearn now that adults no longer expect servitude of her. In Peter's case, the needs of a human child are incompatible with the political line Yondu has to walk to keep him safe. He's able to protect Peter if Peter is Crew, but Crew is held to adult standards, such as facing standardized punishment for rule breaking. Yondu can only offer assistance and comfort after the fact, and Peter does know this. (Also he's the oldest of the kids here at 18.)


End file.
